


Sansa Stark's Night Off

by LittleBlackGoldfish



Series: Peace Between Us [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 18:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18665950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBlackGoldfish/pseuds/LittleBlackGoldfish
Summary: Kiss and make up, right? That's what you're supposed to do after a fight, well Arya has an idea as to the how.





	Sansa Stark's Night Off

**Author's Note:**

> This follows directly [from these wound we do another](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18514438/chapters/43878418) and will probably not make much sense without reading that first. Honestly this entire scene is what first came into my head, but it never quite ended up fitting within the actual arc of that story (it's more than half again as long as the entire first story on its own for one) so here it is on its own. There may still be more stories to come, but probably not for a while.

Arya's led her on a merry chase for several minutes, dragging her down one hall after another without any real sense so far as Sansa could tell. Granted none of their family had ever spent that much time in the Manor, despite it having been located only seventy miles distant from their childhood home along the White Knife.

Few in their family would blame Sansa for being nervous, after the fight they'd had and given their history. If any of the Stark children were capable of murder, Arya would definitely be the one; she's spent the last several years in Braavos playing with sharp things and getting up to gods know what so far as her family knows. So yes, Sansa imagines the rest of the family would expect her to be anxious or nervous given the circumstances, but she's not.

Honestly, if anything Sansa is kind of giddy.

Not an emotion she was expecting to feel around Arya when the day began. But for the first time in forever it actually feels like they might be proper sisters rather than just two people who happen to share the same name and don't get on all that well. Because of that Sansa is prepared to let Arya drag her around the Manor without complaint and get into whatever trouble she wants to, well, within reason. Just as long as it doesn't end up ruining the party going on, which she's fairly sure her sister wants to avoid as well.

Willing to be led she might be, but that doesn't mean she isn't curious. And it's as Arya is leading her down into the basement by way of a set of dimly lit stairs that Sansa gives in to that curiosity.

"What exactly, do you have in mind?" she asks, eyes on her feet as she warily takes the steps one at a time.

Arya shushes her and puts a hand up to halt her progress. Pausing to listen before she continues creeping down into the dark, Arya only waves Sansa forward after she's paused at the foot of the stairs and seen into the room beyond. She promptly disappears around the corner. When Sansa scrambles down the last few steps to follow her she finds herself looking at the darkened laundry room. Of all the places Arya might've been taken her.

"Just hold on a bit longer, I promise you'll like my idea," her sister said, already scanning the room for something.

Then pausing, and biting her lip, Arya muttered under her breath, "I think."

An ache settled in Sansa's chest at that. Part of her wished for nothing more than to go back in time and knock some sense into her younger self, but the past was lost to them and all that remained was the future. What she does is reach out for Arya's hand, lace their fingers, and squeeze.

Arya's answering grip is immediate.

The moment is over quickly though, their hands disentangled as Arya begins to rummage through cupboards in search of only the gods know what. Barely a moment later and Sansa suddenly finds her hands full of a pair of dull gray table clothes; much plainer in design than the ones currently in use in the ballroom up above. Where they came them from isn't entirely clear to her either; whether they were dirty or clean, or simply not suitable.

Either way she doesn't get to wonder long. A box of disposable latex gloves are shoved on top, already open.

"Put these on," Arya said, pulling on a pair herself

Sansa only manages to look blankly at her, looking down at the pile of fabric and box of gloves in her arms. Arya's incredulous look in response is a little irritating, though maybe not unreasonable as she realizes it probably doesn't matter if the table clothes get dirty, whatever they're going to be used for. Dropping them free her hands, but also forces her reach down to pull loose a pair of her own gloves. Getting them on is easy enough, Sansa's had to wear similar when assisting the doctors Wild Hearts flies in to the Frostfangs for yearly checkups.

"Ok," she said, looking back to Arya. "Now wha-"

That's where she stops because her sister has her head half covered in one of the table cloths, her hair is wrapped and she's starting on her lower face so that all that shows is her flinty grey eyes. It's a ridiculous picture, especially with the Tully blue dress she's wearing standing in contrast.

Only once Arya is finished and turns to face Sansa does she burst out laughing; it's the way her eyes seem to ask 'What?' as if the incongruity of her appearance hadn't occurred to her.

"Sorry, sorry," she managed eventually. "You… just look a sight…"

The corners of Arya's eyes crinkle and even through the mess of cloth about her head Sansa can read the smirk on her face.

"Laugh it up," muffled thought it was by fabric, her voice still came through clear enough. "It's you next, yeah."

With mock threat Arya advanced on her, scooping up the length of table cloth as she went. Sansa made a half-hearted attempt to ward off her efforts, pushing ineffectually at the fabric while her sister draped it over her head and then began wrapping it; still it was enough that her hair was a more than a slight mess at the end. Moreover the cloth was less wrapped around her head than wadded. Bits of her distinctive red hair dangled in front of her face and most of the cloth ended up hanging about her neck rather than cover her nose and mouth.

Arya took one look at her and burst out with a laugh of her own. It took a few moments for the two of them to calm down, plus several more for them to undo the mess of fabric and rewrap it properly around her head.

Finally it was done, though with all her hair gathered up in a great big pile at the back Sansa was afraid it would all slip loose, no matter how much Arya kept insisting it would stay put. She granted that Arya had much better experience making sure hair stayed put through heavy activity; Sansa had seen the evidence herself of that in videos. Maybe Arya's hair would never be as long as hers, but it was several times longer than she kept it years ago.

"How do I look?" Sansa asked, posing as regally as she'd ever done.

"Like an idiot," responded Arya, though it lacked all bite and was followed by a quiet chuckle. "Come on, we ought got to get a move on."

With that they set off again, looking assuredly quite silly, as they skulked down brightly lit halls with disposable gloves on their hands and their heads wrapped in table clothes. They moved slowly to avoid other guests and the movements of the staff, but it was evidently only a short distance to their destination. Not that it would have been particularly difficult to do so even if it hadn't been, what staff might venture away from the rooms immediately around the party was usually in a hurry.

Still, Arya checked every corner before they turned it and kept an ear out for any noise until they reached a side entrance on the east side of the main drive. Off to their left stood the main entrance, wide steps leading up the the main entry hall where Sansa could see a small crowd of serving staff standing around distractedly just inside.

A handful of lamp posts all that served to illuminate the empty, or rather nearly empty, drive. That circle of gravel surrounding an island covered in potted plants and flowers nestled around a tall statue of northern granite depicting a howling direwolf that led eventually out to the main road. It was only meant to be the receiving area for the guests, with parking for their vehicles seen to by hired staff behind the west wing, and yet there was a single vehicle parked carelessly off to the right.

Pitch black in color and with low slung body comprised of sweeping curves meant to evoke the lines of some predatory creature, it practically crouched just beyond the immediate cone of light cast by the lamps. Accents of gold and silver along side and rear molding screamed its worth to everyone with eyes, probably even some of those without. There was more gold in the form of a hood ornament she couldn't quite make out.

"Ha, knew the little shit couldn't resist showing off," Arya muttered at her side, eyes on the sportscar.

"Who?" Sansa asked, though she was fairly certain she already knew.

"That, sweet Sansa, is Joffrey's car," though the cloth still covered her face something in her eyes hinted at the vicious smile hidden behind it. "And we are going to steal it."

"What?!" she hissed.

That, was certainly not anything she'd had in mind when she'd agreed to go along with Arya's 'idea.' Now the gloves and the cloth wrapped around their heads made much more sense, though how she'd known his car would be outfront was another thing.

"Relax, with luck we'll be back before he even has a chance to notice it missing," Arya's attention seemed split between the car, and surveying the rest of the grounds before them, flicking from one end to the other and occasionally sweeping along the entire length.

"But what if we're not? He'll call the police, report it stolen, and what'll we do then? I'm not looking to trek back in the middle of the night," gods there were so many ways this was a bad idea.

"That's what the gloves are for," Arya said, and Sansa rolled her eyes; she'd figured that much out. "Besides if he wants to keep that hideous beast, he's not like to call anyone. Cars like that aren't legal in the North, Xhare-Muat has been under sanction for the last thirty years on account of their use of 'indentured servants,' along with half the companies in Qarth."

Sansa glanced back to the car, she knew next to nothing about cars, but one of her favorite designer brands Blue Dhosa was famous for bucking Qartheen modes and forbidding the use of indentured contracts for its various suppliers and manufacturers. Which was half the reason she started looking at their stuff, before discovering they made skirts with actual pockets. Given the difference in climate and on account of her own workload, Sansa only had call to wear either of the pair she owned once or twice a year, but they were still well worth their weight in gold so far as she was concerned.

Flaunting his own supposed importance by bringing in an illegal sports car was exactly the sort of person Joffrey was. Likely he'd had the damned thing flown up all the way from the family home in Durraponte, there's no question of him having driven it up near the entire length of Westeros.

Yes all of that she could believe and yet that still didn't make her any happier with this little notion that Arya had cooked up; it wasn't as if Sansa had never done anything illegal or improper, she'd done plenty of both, but usually for something a little more worthy. Smuggling controlled substances across the northern border to save the lives of her charges? Done it. Exaggerating the interest of other clans to jostle the Flints into action? Sansa wouldn't lose any sleep over that. Stealing Joffrey's very expensive car for a joyride seemed... petty.

And that more than anything is what had her hesitating, their parents had taught them that rules should only be broken when it was truly important to do so; when something meaningful was on the line, something more than pride, property or personal gain.

For all that, part of her still wanted to go along with it.

"And how exactly did you know all this?" Sansa asked, pushing off having to make a choice just that much longer.

Her sister just shrugged, "I didn't, but I could guess. His High Shitness likes to be powerful, likes to use that power over other people too and he certainly wouldn't ever let anyone else touch his stuff. Besides I figured you leaving him still smarts."

"This isn't some harmless prank, Arya," she sighed, most of the impact diminished by the cloth wrapped around her head. "Don't you realise how dangerous this is? If we're caught it won't just be a slap on the wrist."

"Wrecking it was hardly in the plans," was the reply that came. "Besides I already told you, he's not like to tell anyone besides his mum or da about it. Maybe complain to ours as well, but why should anyone think we did it?"

"And if they try and pin it on someone else?" Sansa asked. "You'd be willing to let someone else take that for you?"

There was a pause from Arya at that, clearly not an outcome she'd considered, and then, "No, but if it comes to it I'll take the fall."

"You think I'm going to-" Sansa started to say before she was cut off by a raised hand.

"Hold up," now Arya met her eyes and stared intently. "I was going to say; we commit to being back in an hour, two tops, and he'll probably never even miss the damn thing."

Despite the relative darkness it was just starting to close in on seven, a mild winter it might've been but it was winter all the same, meaning there were three hours to the party at least. Ten would be a early end to the night, more than likely it would last until well past midnight.

Not that Arya's notion of a curfew did anything to allay the risks, there was still all the chance of being caught and the possibility they might get hurt in a vehicle neither of them had ever handled before driving far too fast.

It should have been simple. Tell her sister no and go back in to rejoin the party, or at least find something else to do; it really should have been easy.

But some part of Sansa wanted to say yes, wanted to be reckless and petty and vindictive and take something back from Joffrey for all that he'd done to her. Their breakup, so long ago now, had hardly been a moment for satisfaction. All wrapped up in terror and adrenaline it had hardly been anything in truth, she'd told him she was leaving and then she'd left.

Oh he'd raged and screamed and threatened, and her heart had trembled even as her mind set, but it had all just as quickly turned to insults when she'd refused to bow to his anger; how she was a worthless slut, an ugly bitch, worth nothing without him and that he was glad to done of her. Relief had been the overwhelming sensation, in the moment and then in the weeks that followed. But there'd never been anything satisfying about it.

Sansa had only ever given idle thought to revenge, told herself she preferred simply to move on, but now that it was being offered to her in, even in such a small way, a part of her wanted it. A part of her that felt… old. It was a hungry and vicious feeling, a wild animal baying at the doors from her heart eager to take something from Joffrey, to get back a measure of what he'd taken from her.

For a moment she stood there, notions of proper behavior warred with her rage and produced only uncertainty. Only for a moment though and then the tension within her snapped. Looking to Arya she gave a smile that was thin as the first layers of frost and just as cold.

"Ok."

The triumph that exploded across her little sister's face was clear, and that vicious part of her sang in answer; for the first time Sansa thought she felt as must have Arya felt so often, all teeth and claws poised to explode into motion, a caged beast set free to wreak glorious havoc on the world. A shiver ran up her spine and down her arms.

"Oh, damn," Arya said suddenly, her eyes wide with surprise. Breaking the moment suddenly as her expression fell slightly, and Sansa glanced back in the direction of Joffrey's car but found it just the same as it had been.

Looking back to her sister, she found her turning away already and Sansa's heart seized within her chest, full of unspoken and uncomprehended doubts. But in the next moment Arya turned back, shot her an apologetic look and said, "Stay here, I'll be right back. Stay here."

"Arya-" Sansa began to say, but before the word was even finished her sister was gone.

Nearly as she was gone Sansa started pacing.

That energy, eager anticipation and coursing adrenaline brimming at her fingertips, still remained only now without a release or a target to direct it towards. So she paced to burn it away, to ease the way her heart beat and lungs fluttered. All the while glancing up at every creak or distant shout that reached her ears as the pounding staccato of her heart reverberated against his chest.

Eternities passed as she waited for Arya.

Though certainly it could only have been a few minutes. During that time Sansa worked herself up to abandoning the entire nonsense at least twice and consequently wound herself down from those some heights as well. She jumped at every distant at everything and constantly rounded on the door to fix her eyes on the staff clustered within the front entrance, sure at any moment that they would pile out and rush over.

None of them took more than a handful of steps within the entrance hall, chattering away happily.

Finally, finally, her sister raced back around the corner, a large brown paper bag tucked under one arm which she almost instantly thrust in Sansa's arms. Taking the thing was awkward, its contents were irregular and heavier than she expected, and moved underneath her grip.

"Right, now, walking slowly," Arya said, pressing close to the door and peering out at the empty drive with a searching eye. "But not too slowly. Just, casual, like you're just out for an evening stroll. Normal."

Maybe this wasn't a good idea, Sansa thought, but by then it was too late and she was being carried out in Arya's wake like a kite carried by the wind. The cool night air bit at her through the material of her dress, her skin pimpling in response, as both of them strolled out into it.

Each step took them further from the comforting darkness and closer to the light cast by the lamp posts. It took everything within her to fight the urge to glance back every few seconds to see if they'd been noticed yet and Sansa thanked the gods, old and new, that she'd chosen to wear flats for the party rather than anything with a real heel. To her right Arya was a comforting presence, if not necessarily a reassuring one as her hands kept fidgeting and Sansa would have reached out to offer her own hand except that both were now full of an awkwardly shaped bag she kept having to readjust in her arms.

It was only as they were start to approach within a few feet of the car that she actually thought to wonder how exactly they were going to get into it. Joffrey cared too much about the things he owned, Sansa still had the faint scars from where his nails had dug in too deeply to give proof to that, to leave something like it unlocked and unattended. Plus she was sure that most modern cars came with alarm systems.

Sweat suddenly prickled at her back despite the cool air.

Maybe if they just kept right on walking they wouldn't draw any attention? Just strolled right past the car and kept on going, disappeared around the corner and returned to the part by another way. But as soon as the thought was in her head, Arya was rounding on the driver's side door and pulling a pair of metal objects from somewhere on her dress. Even in the light provided by the lamps it was still too dim to make out any of the details, only that one was long and thin while the other was shorter.

Sansa kept resisting the desire to turn towards the entrance. Her heart raced in her chest for every interminable second of the minutes it took for Arya to do whatever it was that she was doing. At the end she let out a soft 'whoop' and Sansa chanced a glance back to the Manor.

Nothing so much as a turned head in their direction.

"Other side, other side," Arya urged her as she slid in behind the steering wheel.

Gravel scattered as she startled into motion and hurried around the front of the car to obey. When she reached the passenger side she struggled a few moments getting the cumbersome package into her left hand so that she could grip the door handle, when all on its own it popped open. She had to step back to let it swing open and Arya's grinning face greeted her from within, now with the fabric of head wrapping pushed down so that it hung beneath her chin.

"Let's blow this joint," her sister said said, her voice dipping into the mocking imitation of a Crownlands accent that was so common in bad Essosi films, as she settled herself back into her own seat.

The bag went down onto the floor as Sansa slid in next to Arya and marveled at the interior. It was if anything more expensive looking than the outside had been; the dashboard looked like it might actually be weirdwood, perhaps a subtle jab by the manufacturer, engraved with yet more gold and silver, and the seats were definitely real leather.

A simple button push was apparently all it took for the engine to rumble to life and Arya rolled her eyes.

"Two hundred thousand this shite has to cost, and they still skimp out on cheap locks," she said, with a mocking laugh. "Gendry will lose it when I tell him about this."

With a glance to check that she was belted in Arya grinned wide and set the car roaring off down the drive with such a suddenness that had Sansa pressing herself involuntarily into her seat. In a moment they'd flashed past the edge of the property, the Manor itself was towards the front of the estate, and were peeling out onto the open road. Sansa's heart was lodged somewhere in her throat as they screamed down the road and she was a second from screeching Arya ear off when her sister eased off the gas of her own accord.

In a moment they'd slowed down to something she could stand, the country still zipped past them, but it was only at the normal pace of any vehicle rather than something likely to end in their imminent deaths. With her terror abated Sansa was able to glance over and smile at the grin plastered across her sister's face, then another second grin grew on her own face as the thought struck her that there were apparently even more things about Arya that she still had to learn.

For instance...

"Gendry, huh?" she asked. "Is he the one who taught you to break into cars?"

Arya glanced at her for only a moment, then her eyes swept back to the road ahead, before answering, "Yup."

That was hardly an answer, so she prompted, "It's not a Braavosi name, Gendry, is it?"

"Nope." Was all she got back.

"Oh come on," Sansa cried, exasperated.

Arya just laughed back at her, "You're as subtle as Jon."

Well, that was hardly fair. A silence lapsed between them, filled only by the thrumming of the engine and the rush of air outside.

"He was my roommate second year down in Landing," Arya continued after a moment. "His foster father was a mechanic, so he'd grown up with cars. He was going for his MBA, for when he took over the shop. Sometimes I thought he'd ever shut up, but I learned a lot and he had a good voice."

There was a wistful look on her face as she spoke of him, this Gendry who Sansa had never heard tell of before; but then if this during her second year at uni like she'd said, there was a good reason for that. Another pang of regret struck her, but she buried it under the wonder of hearing Arya's voice so soft and fond. The only other time she'd ever spoken like that in Sansa's presence, well, she'd been fourteen and Arya had been elevent and it had been some girl she'd met playing rugby.

"We kept in touch," Arya said. "Talk every few months, mostly he likes to rant about the shit rich clients get up to, which is mostly how I knew about all that shit. The rakes were a gift from him… two years ago I think? He'd taught me how to pick a car lock when we were rooming together, it's come in handy a few times."

She made a noise in the back of her throat, just something to acknowledge the information as Sansa didn't know what to make of half of it. Gendry was clearly someone important to her, but Sansa doesn't know exactly in what way. Just a good friend or a friendly ex?

Part of her wants to ask. A voice very much like her mothers is practically screaming to know more about this man who Arya talks about with such fondness, but questioning her sister has never gone well in the past. That's a part of Arya's life she missed and they need to get back to a better place before Sansa feels comfortable prying, as it all still feels too fragile.

"Any other strange and nefarious skills you've picked up?" she asks by way of changing the subject.

"Nah, it's all very above board," Arya said, slowing to a stop at a desolate intersection. "What about you?"

It's a fair question, Sansa supposes, given that she posed it herself not a second ago. Still it takes her a bit by surprise and she has pause for a good long bit before answering in order to muster up something.

"Hardly anything nearly as exciting; mostly some new languages," Sansa said. "Common isn't nearly so common in the Free Territories, had to pick up the Old Tongue, plus a smattering of ibbish."

For her part all that Arya said in response is, "Huh."

Moments pass and she makes no move to get them going as the silence deepens between them, it feels like they're both waiting for something that neither can identify.

"Can I drive?" Sansa blurts out without really thinking.

Honestly it comes out before she's even fully processed the idea, and by the time she has it's it's too late to take back and the way Arya is looking at her kind of makes her not want to anyways. Besides it can't be all that hard, she's driven plenty before and if Joffrey can handle the car she most certainly can. Probably the car will do most of the driving for her.

Arya's halfway out of her seat already, smiling broadly at Sansa as if she's just been given a particularly brilliant gift, before she even answers.

"Come on," her sister said, hopping out and Sansa has to scramble after her.

 

In her haste they nearly run into each other as they cross in front of the car, most of reason they don't is because Arya dances out of the way without even breaking stride.

Her heart is pounding once again in her chest by the time she sits down in the driver's seat, she's almost afraid to touch the wheel much less get her feet anywhere close to the pedals. Thank all the gods it's at least an automatic, Eddard Stark taught all his children to drive manual, but she doesn't think she could handle the stick and all the power of this particular car.

Hands hover just above the wheel Sansa hesitates, mind racing with images of all the worst outcomes, until Arya shoots her a pointed look full of all the encouraging words they've never give one another. Instantly as her hands touch the wheel she can feel the distant thrumm of the idling engine, somehow it calms her. Centers her. Setting her feet against the pedals, but very carefully not giving them many pressure, she glances again to Arya who raises one eyebrow and smiles.

"Honestly, it's just like any other car. Just with a bit more power," Arya said.

"Right..." she trails off, mostly to herself, and then with a bit more confidence. "Right."

Even with just light pressure the engine practically roars to Sansa's ears, and it startles her a moment, before she grows use to it. She knows it must be in her head because she's been riding in the damned car for the last several minutes already and it didn't sound half so loud then. Nothing to be done for it but to do it.

Right.

Releasing the handbrake, she gives it a bit more gas and feels the entire vehicle come to life. It lurches for a moment, rocking them both back and forth jerkily, but Sansa steels herself and gives the gas a second firmer press; the entire vehicle surges forward, smooth as the tide. The roar is less now, more like a soft growl over which she can hear the rush of wind outside and the still night.

In that instant it all seems to click. Her foot goes down further and the entire body of the car comes alive beneath her fingertips, the noise of the engine is her own heartbeat singing back to her.

The road opens up before them into the night, the car galloping beneath her and the lights carving them a path forward through the darkness. She laughs freely, easily. Every twitch from her hands translates instantly, arcing the body of the car along the curve of the road as easily as any dance Sansa has ever done in her entire life she can feel the play of friction between the tires and the pavement beneath. Anticipates the curve of the road before it comes into view.

The long rolling country hills undulate past to either side like waves at sea, the grass briefly silvered like seafoam as the headlights catch it. Sansa is free, as free as she ever feels on those lonely mountains away from the press of life and civilization; a lonely island amidst a sea of clear skies and snow capped peaks, liberated.

She takes the bend easily, preparing to accelerate into the straightaway. A laugh burbles up in her chest, high and clear, and Sansa has justed started to press down on the accelerator again when the deer leaps out onto the road. Barely more than a thought of it passes through her head before Sansa's foot is slamming down on the brake with everything she has, and it takes every ounce of her control to keep the car from spinning away from her control.

All the while the deer is caught framed in the light, a frozen figure made indistinct by the harsh illumination that surrounds it. Several seconds pass before Sansa notices that the car has come to a stop. Then she locks eyes with the deer and she can feel the terror radiating off of it as her own heart hammers in her chest hard enough to drown out all else. Moments later it's gone, dashing away across to the other side of the road as if it hadn't be an instant away from death a second ago and all that Sansa has left is her own harshing breathing.

Well that and the cackling laughter of Arya from the seat next to her just a few beats later.

"It's not funny," she bites out, releasing her fingers from the white knuckled death grip on the wheel.

Arya simple snorts in response and keeps laughing. There's a flare of anger in Sansa's chest, her panic has always seemed a source of amusement for Arya, but she quickly tamps down on it and buries it beneath her relief. Not quickly enough though.

"Aww, come on now, I'm not laughing at you," her sister said, not unkindly. "You've got to admit, you almost running over a deer in Joffrey _Baratheon_ 's car is kind of hilarious."

Which made no sense, what difference did it make whose car she hit an animal with? Sure messing up his car might've been somewhat satisfying to Sansa, so long as she and Arya came out of it without a scratch, but that had nothing to do with him being a Baratheon. In fact now that she was thinking of it a part of a her was slightly disappointed there wasn't damage.

Only a part though and only for a moment. The rest of her was just glad that neither they nor the deer had been hurt, it was unworthy to make an innocent creature pay for Joffrey's wrongs. Why would Arya think it particularly amusing that it was his car?

Dimly some ancient lessons swam up to the forefront of her mind; Stark's were direwolves, Tyrell's roses, Manderly's mermen, and the Baratheons had been stags according to tradition and heraldry. Granted a stag wasn't quite a deer. Symbols were important to the ancient westerosi nobility, their iconography deeply tied with their identities and political hierarchies if she remembers her history right. In the light of modern twelfth centuries sensibilities it all seems quite ridiculous, but then much of her own light would be equally incomprehensible to them. Some of the humor her sister found was understandable, even if it was still mostly outweighed by her relief and terror.

"Alright, it was, a bit," Sansa allowed. "Only a little funny though."

That seemed to do for Arya as she gave a last chuckle, continued smiling and then quickly glanced out of window.

"Pull off here," she said, gesturing towards the right shoulder which opened out onto a mostly open field with only a single oak standing a bit away.

Sansa might have protested, except that she really didn't feel like driving any farther herself with what had just happened. Moreover it wasn't as if they'd been going anywhere in particular in the first place so one random patch of grass was the same as any other and she'd honestly prefer to be returning sooner rather than later anyways. It took a bit of maneuvering, especially as she was now much more hesitant at the wheel than she'd been before, but it was a short distance only to go.

They ended up ten feet off the road underneath the tall, ancient, oak tree that loomed large against the night sky. Arya was out of the car before the engine was even off, motioning impatiently for Sansa to join her at the bonnet with one hand as she held the brown paper bag aloft with the other.

Despite the mildness of the weather it was still colder out here than it had been at the Manor, the structures there cutting off most of the wind that now knifed through the fabric of her dress like a wash of icy water. Scrambling through the shin high grass toward the promised warmth of the cooling engine, Sansa counted herself lucky that it hadn't snowed any time in the last week or so, otherwise it might have been wet as well as cold.

Arya hopped up onto the bonnet smartly and scooted back until she was nearly lying on the windshield.

"Come on up," she said as she dug into the bag.

Sansa's own ascent was a much more graceful, and careful, slide up the curve of the car's front. Instantly a wine bottle was thrust into her hands and Sansa looked down to find the bag smoothed out to serve as a sort of placemat with a handful of partially smashed lemon cakes sitting on it along with a small assortment of other hand foods. As for the wine, that was a bottle of Arbor strongwine nearly a century old going by the date on the label; in other words hideously expensive and strong enough to get even Robert Baratheon drunk in a flash.

"Seven hells, Arya, where did you even find this?" nothing like this had been on the slate for the reception, not with four hundred people attending even if they had been the kingdoms high and mighty.

Her sister shrugged, pulled the cork out with her teeth and then dropped it into her other hand, and took a swig as if to say it hardly mattered.

Still she did answer once she'd finished gulping down the first mouthful, "Found a whole crate of them when da's bosom buddy came back with us after what's his names funeral, down in the Vale."

Jon Arryn, nearly ten years ago. He'd been both their father and Robert Baratheon's mentor and some sort of father figure too, though none of the Stark children except Robb had met him when he was alive. Sansa remember how odd it had been to see the two of them together like that, like a couple of college kids drinking and laughing all through the night for almost three days straight.

"And you didn't think to share?" She asked and received another shrug.

"Didn't feel like it," Arya said simply before passing the bottle to Sansa, and grinning as she continued, "Got good and stinkin' drunk though."

Rolling her eyes she took the proffered bottle, but didn't drink from it yet, just stared at Arya from the side. That had been a decent year so far as Sansa remembered, except for the funeral, she been in her first year of uni and had only just had enough of a break for the funeral and a weekend back home. But it had been a good year; Joffrey and she had only just started dating, she was doing well in school, and was making friends it seemed left and right.

Had it been for Arya? Sansa didn't know, had really been paying attention as it turned out.

"Back then," she started to ask, almost at the same time as Arya herself spoke as well, saying, "Mister Baratheon found me that first night, down in the cellar."

She had settled back now, her hands resting with fingers crossed atop her head as she stared absently into the night sky. A long moment passed and Sansa took a sip from the bottle before settling in next to her sister, it seemed better to let Arya continue when she wanted rather than press.

"He made a pass at me, said I looked just like 'her,' like Aunt Lyanna," there was a look of amusement on her face, but just beneath it a hint of disgust snuck through.

"Arya…" Gods if Robert Baratheon had touched her, Sansa would, would. Well, she had no notion what it was that she would do but by all the old gods and the new it would not be something the drunken sot of a lech would ever forget.

"Told him if he touched me I'd knee his bollocks so hard his shit of a son would feel it," Arya continued as if Sansa hadn't spoken at all. "He stared at me so dumbly I thought he'd passed out standing, but then he laughed so loud I was sure someone would come to find us. Then just... wandered off."

Of course. Arya had never needed anyone else to defend her, though it was hard to imagine her fighting off a man as large as Robert if he'd truly been so vile. Some small flash of shame entered Sansa's head then, for thinking so ill of her father's friend, but then it was difficult to imagine a good man raising someone like Joffrey.

Of course Myrcella and Tommen were dears. So he probably couldn't be all that awful a father even though to Sansa he'd always seemed terribly distant with all of his kids, content to let his wife do the parenting for both of them. Of course they only really saw the whole Baratheon family at big events.

"Unfair of me, honestly, not even sure Joff is his son," she said.

"What?" Sansa asked, confused; she'd never heard anything like that even hinted at before.

Arya suddenly looked to Sansa with wide-eyes, as if just remembering who she was talking too, and said quickly, "Nothing, nevermind, just some stupid gossip. So tell me, what's Tyene like? I like her fine but we've barely spent a few hours together."

"Lovely," Sansa said simply to start before she took another sip of the wine. "You'll like her even more the better you know her, she's like you some I think."

And it was true, though that was the first time she'd ever said so out loud.

"Doesn't stand for shite from anyone," she continued. "But she has so much love in her, so much kindness and caring that I don't doubt she'll make as good a mother as you could imagine. She and Robb met at some vet function, and the way he tells it everyone in the room couldn't stop singing her praises."

Chuckling and smiling Arya swallowed the bite of lemon cake she'd been chewing on as Sansa talked.

"Don't imagine it hurts that she's hot as shit," she said. " 'course Robb's no slouch either."

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed, shocked to hear her talk that way about their brother.

"What? He's my brother, doesn't mean I'm blind," her little sister said, correctly identifying the reason for her scandalized tone. "Beides it can hardly be news; look at yourself you, or Bran, and hells even Rickon must have to beat them off. None of you are ever going to suffer for lack of dates."

It was true Sansa knew and hard to deny, though thinking of her brothers in such terms was difficult, she knew it as an objective fact that none of the Starks were unpleasant to the eye. They'd still experienced many of the same teenage insecurities, but on Sansa's part at least those had melted like summer snows in the face of very explicit attention. Her struggle had always been to be taken seriously in spite of her looks.

"You forget yourself," Sansa said.

Another shrug came in response, "I do alright, but I'm not fooling myself."

She said it so simply, without rancor or any hint of resentment that it was difficult for Sansa to parse for a moment; did Arya truly believe herself not their equal on that front? Hadn't she ever looked in the mirror?

"What?" was all the Sansa managed to get out.

"I know I'm not ugly, but I was never going to be a model," Arya said, taking the bottle of wine from Sansa's limp hands and taking another long drag. "Face too long, shoulders too wide, hair too limp, all that.

What?

"Oh Seven on High, you really don't-" But Sansa cut herself off before she could finish, talking wouldn't do any good in this situation. "No, hold on, I have something to show you."

Pulling out her phone from the little hidden pocket she'd stuffed it into Sansa quickly swiped through the handful of screens it took for her to find what she was looking for. Starting the video and flipping it around she handed it to Arya.

"I'm sure you recognize that," she said.

"That's me, or my troupe I guess," Arya said, uncertainly.

Which was fair given the overall poor quality of the video in question; Sansa had always assumed it was from a performance, probably taken from the audience given the angle and the overall shakiness. Certainly if the people Arya worked for had hired someone to do such a poor job it would be a miracle that they were still operating.

"Right," Sansa said. "Now scroll down to the comments."

That had certainly been a surprise to her the first time she'd come across something like this, many of her sister's online admirers were quite effusive and explicit in their praise.

"Oohkay," Arya said holding the phone back to Sansa. "I'm not really sure what a bunch of internet perv's are supposed to tell me-"

"Hold on, hold on, I'm not done yet," scooping her phone back up she closed out that window.

Navigating to a social media site she'd found a few months back, small but with an apparently thriving community of lesbians, some of which happened to be obsessed with her sister, Sansa clicked through to a particular tag she knew was associated with the tamer side of things. Then after scrolling a bit to make sure it was what she wanted she handed the phone back to Arya.

"Now, read that," she said.

Sansa waited. There was a lot there to see and not much of it would make sense right away; drawings and photos, sometimes with text and sometimes without, as well as writings all using slang and terms that Sansa herself had not grasped the meaning of at first. It was a bit strange to think of Arya as being the subject of such things, not only for the lustful thoughts on display, but also for the strange sort of celebrity status. She'd had some time to come to grips with it though, it had been almost three years since she'd seen the first postings online.

Since then she'd been all over, in fits and starts visiting various corners of the internet as links crossed her path. That was how she'd learned more about the, once again mostly lesbian, fans of her sister than she'd ever really cared to know. Inadvertently it had also given her a somewhat better notion of what was going on in Arya's life than she would have otherwise had, not, she imagined, a particularly good one all the same distorted as it was by distance and the narrowness of its scope.

"Huh," that was it.

The whole of her reaction. Well, it was just as Sansa had thought.

"See," Sansa said, wiping away the crumbs of the two lemon cakes she'd managed to polish off in the meantime. "Maybe you don't look like I do, but then I don't think I've ever seen anyone wax poetic about the shape of my arms either. Or go on at length about the contours of my back muscles."

"What? I didn't see anyone talking about my back," Arya said, glancing back to the phone still in her hand.

Sansa snatched it away before she could search out anything more though, it wouldn't do to let it go to Arya's head too much what these women thought of her. Otherwise she might end up as bad as Robb.

"My point was," she said pointedly. "That you are as… desirable as anyone."

Arya rolled her eyes, but the smile playing across her face softened the motion, "Like I said, I do fine. But I get the idea; I'm pretty and I shouldn't let anyone tell me otherwise, yadda yadda."

Passing the bottle back to Sansa, Arya lay back down against the windshield. Leaning far enough over this time that when Sansa joined her their shoulders actually touched and she could actually hear the whispered 'thanks.' Despite the chill a warmth had settled in her chest and Sansa let a contented smile play across her lips as she reached out to take her sister's hand.

Tonight was a beginning Sansa promised herself, promised Arya silently, one that she was bound and determined to make work.


End file.
